


Five Hundred

by Amatia (orphan_account)



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-08
Updated: 2010-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:50:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Amatia





	Five Hundred

Luciana was only there for a week (the week there was the most press), and then she went home to Miami. You and Steven went to scout locations in Sicily and left Jules with Catherine and Michael. There were enough people in the house that it was rather likely it would take some of them a couple of days to even realize you were gone.

It shouldn’t have been that easy to leave them all behind, but it was. Like getting into the car was the simplest thing you’d ever done with your life. Giarre was hot and so was Steven’s tongue in your mouth when he pressed you down onto the hotel bed. I’ve been waiting for this, he says, without saying anything at all. His knee slides between your knees.

“I guess we’ll be checking locations later,” you murmur, licking behind his ear.

“There are no locations,” he replies.

The air conditioner finally kicks in and blasts cold air across you and Steven on the bed as he pulls your shirt off. You can’t do this in George’s house because, despite the fact that there’s twenty-two bedrooms or some other insane number like that, someone is always around looking for either your attention or Steven’s. Usually Steven, whose hand is unbuttoning your jeans as you nuzzle against his neck. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

You lick his jaw. “Slow down.”

“Can’t.”

You slide your arms around him, palms flat against his back. Content to just lay on the bed and be near him. Even with the air conditioner hissing. “You can.”

But then your adrenaline kicks in and you bite his shoulder. Steven laughs at this; still trying to get your clothes off with the hand that isn’t keeping him propped precariously up over you. “Stop trying to be in control,” you whisper in his ear, and roll sideways so that he gets tipped off and you’re both laying on the bed facing each other. You move in, press against him, rub your foot against his leg.

It’s not that you can’t find time to get laid - that can be done anywhere: on set, in cars, in trailers, in one of George’s many bathrooms. It’s the time to do it right that you and Steven never seem to be able to steal from production. You know he’d be hard pressed to choose between this and the days when the set is running like a perfectly calibrated machine. You have a hard time picking, too.

“And here I thought I spent too much time thinking,” he says, and you blink. He grins. “It’s okay, Matt.”

And then it smacks you right in the chest: you’re sleeping with your director and you think you might be a little bit in love with him on top of it. It’s the time of your life, you realize, as Steven’s fingertips drag over your cock - and there’s no reason not to push it to the limit, push it as far as Steven’s hands will take you.


End file.
